


But Your Innocence Is Mine

by yugidementia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-09
Packaged: 2017-11-24 05:44:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yugidementia/pseuds/yugidementia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean wants Sam to have a good Christmas for once and drags him to a party. They bump into each other...under the mistletoe.  Sam/Dean (Sam is 15 Dean is 18/19)</p>
            </blockquote>





	But Your Innocence Is Mine

School let out for 'winter break' as the politically correct teachers referred to it. The only person Sam knew that wasn’t ambiguously Christian had to be Bobby’s friend Rufus. The parking lot had been abandoned no longer than five minutes after the final bell. Dad was hunting trolls disguised as Santa's elves in this dreary Wisconsin town. If there was any doubt of how clever they are, it was settled in the mind of many a hunter.

Dean pulled the car into sight, a stupid grin messing up his features.

"What?" Sam asked after he slammed the door.

"Jessica Randez."

"That tells me nothing, Dean."

"We're going to her Christmas party. Five o'clock."

"I'll stay home."

"Stop being a shut-in. You're coming. Might finally get some action."

Dean shifted to drive and sped out, lead by his second brain. His hands tapped to the music shakily, singing the words under his breath. Sam held out his gloves and Dean shook his head 'no.' The car smelled like musk and leather; everything about the Impala was an extension of Dean.

"Maybe I don't want to get any 'action.'”

"Whatever. Best thing about dropping out is all the high school girls think I'm independent. They're all game."

Dean's parking job was a bit rough, slanted to the right. It'd thrown Sam forward when he jabbed the brakes, but he had other things to think about than giving his brother whiplash.

* * *

  
"So what are you gonna wear?" Dean yelled through the bathroom door.

"I'm not going. My hobby isn't watching you hit on girls in Christmas colors."

Sam laid on the couch, feet where his head was supposed to be. The bloodrush was starting to hurt.  
"I know people that would pay to watch me make out with chicks."

"Then take them."

His brother wasn’t a loner, he always had friends. Why didn’t he bring a wing man or something?

"Sammy," Dean's voice was stern, the door creaking open.

He wore a red pinstripe vest with green buttons in contrast to his regular leather car jacket. Underneath was a white long sleeved shirt that just hung over his gray slacks. His dress shoes shined, polished recently. He liked to constantly oil them up similar to the care he gave to their guns. Dean Winchester made the outfit look like this was his casual dress. Sam didn't even know his brother owned anything other than band t-shirts and ragged jeans.

Sam chuckled as he stood up from the couch.

"Chicks dig it. Here."

He held out some dress pants Sam wore two years ago to a choir concert and a pale pink striped dress shirt he probably picked up at the thrift store. Sam hung them on his arm while he looked for a belt. He gave up and pushed into the cramped bathroom. The pants were a size too small which translated into a tight squeeze and bare ankles. The shirt was a little loose hanging at about his hips and it was missing the top button. These were probably the nicest clothes he’d worn since sixth grade. He sighed and let Dean look him over. The laughter was kept to a minimum before really surveying the outfit.

"You can not wear tennis shoes. No brother of mine will look like some homeless kid."

Sam thought he was doing pretty well considering they are next to homeless.

"These are my only shoes," he reasoned, not wanting to make an issue of it.

"You can wear a pair of mine. And put on some longer socks. C'mere."

They stood face to face. Sam was becoming insecure, what was wrong?  
Dean shoved a hand in his neat brown hair and mussed it around. Sam tried to duck down without success.

"Now the chicks will be all over you, stud."

* * *

  
Sam smeared dirty snow on the welcome mat that said "We're on the good list." Fifty teenagers lingered in spatters; some circled the punch bowl filled with egg nog, spiked no doubt. Between the droll of conversation, old Christmas songs came through. Dean ventured forward talking up the first blonde in sight. Sam stood awkwardly and surveyed the room; familiar faces-- they went to the high school he was attending this month. He hoped no one noticed he was the singular freshman. Sure being Dean's little brother could make this an easy time, but no one knew they're related. He was in no hurry to inform them. He and his brother aren't alike, but it's a permanent idea people have. Being a twin must be some kind of identity hell.

Sam made his way to a couch in a deserted living room. The live-action version of The Grinch was playing on the TV. He settled in and prepared to sit through this for the next hour. He felt the cushion next to him sink.

"Come on, Sammy there's people to meet."

Sam sighed loudly and scooted further away.

"Well, I'll check back on you in a bit and see if you're ready for a good time."

* * *

  
Dean huffed annoyance when he walked away. He didn't want to be here dressed like a dork. Christ he just wanted Sam to do something fun for the holiday. The usual was anxious waiting for Dad to get home. In the last fifteen years, that has happened twice. Both times he came home inebriated and bloody. All those other years he had to lie awake and listen to Sam cry himself to sleep. That was the most heartbreaking part of each year. Dad wasn't coming home on time this year.

Jessica Randez herself approached.

"Who's that guy on the couch?"

"Oh, that's Sam. He's-"

My brother. I'm the high school drop out and that's my brother that you wouldn't give the time of day if you knew we share a gene pool.

"He's shy."

"I think I've seen him around between classes. I'll go talk to him. I just want everyone at the party to have a good time."

"Alright."

He watched from afar as she flashed concerned eyes at Sam and he tried to avoid it. He never liked when people expressed concern for him. She was really trying, mouth moving too fast for lip reading. She pointed at Dean, Sam's eyes following her finger. Dean froze when his eyes met Sam's, not sure what she was telling him. Sam swallowed hard and directed his gaze to a wall.

Dean’s brain turned back on and remembered his bodily functions. He ran to the bathroom, past people on both sides of the hallway entry. Weirdos.

* * *

  
"Hey what's up?" an unfamiliar voice asked.

Sam turned to look in the direction of the voice. He knew she was going to ask what his issue was.

"I just don't do parties, you know? I didn’t really come here on a whim."

"Doesn't mean you can't have a good time. Did that Dean guy bring you?" She brushed a dark strand of hair from her face.

"Yeah."

Sam fidgeted. Cue the questions about what Dean does in his free time or whatever girls always asked about his brother. Maybe he’d kissed her tonight; maybe he’d kissed her best friend. He was not in the mood to play twenty questions.

"Well, I've seen the way you've been looking at him," she pointed at him lurking in the corner.

Sam was about to have a panic attack. Did she mention anything she'd noticed to Dean? He looked pretty on edge. He lost focus and drifted away where this wasn’t really happening. He heard Dean's shoes drag on the carpet.

"Look, you've got it all wrong. He just wants me to talk to people and stuff."

"Well, yeah. He wants to show off the guy he's into." She smiled sincerely at him as he choked on his drink; Dean being into guys was the greatest joke he’d ever heard.

“Whatever.”

"You'll work it out. I noticed you aren’t fond of the egg nog. There’s some soda in the kitchen. Down the hall and take a left.”

"Thanks." He was happy to have some personal space again. He quickly shuffled past the clumps of people crowding the hallway. The door on the right swung in and someone stepped out, running right into Sam.

"I'm really sorry," Sam mumbled to the person in the way.

"It's alright," Dean laughed.

Everyone's attention was directed at them. Sam looked around and caught green in his vision. They were under the mistletoe. Excellent.

"Uh, Dean," he gestured above them.

A silence settled on them as they realised the full implications of the situation.

"Dean too manly to kiss a guy? Come on!" yelled a girl in the crowd.

"I'll just tell them we're brothers. No one in th-"

"No it's fine, Sammy."

"Kiss. Kiss. Kiss." The crowd hooted.

The music blared a jazzy version of “All I want for Christmas is You.”

Sam flushed when Dean scrutinized him, working out the best way to go about this.

"Let's give 'em a show," Dean cocked a grin.

He shuffled forward, taking Sam's face in his hands and giving a peck on the lips. Like a family kiss, nothing weird.

"That wasn't a real kiss," a male voice cried.

"OK, chill." Dean held his hands up in surrender to the mob.

Sam leaned forward, fisting a hand in the undershirt. His lips brushed Dean's and then Dean opened his mouth. Sam had kissed girls but never like this; he didn’t know what to do. He opened his mouth, allowing his brother to teach him. It was pleasant and wet and he never wanted to leave. He swore Dean’s tongue was going to end up down his throat.

They pulled away after a couple minutes and greeted by cheers. Guys patting Dean on the back telling him he can get anyone he wants. Jessica smiled at Sam. They walked outside for privacy.

Dean shoved Sam against the side of the house and kissed him the second time in his life.

* * *

  
Dean felt Sam grinding against his leg during their brief makeout session. He wasn’t really sure if this was the time or place; he was worn down from the social scene.

"You wanna go home?" Dean whispered to Sam, keys in hand.

"Yeah."

* * *

  
The drive home was silent. Inside, they toed off their shoes and Dean shrugged off his vest. They sat on the couch without a word and settled on some family movie. Sam soon fell into a light sleep. Dean slid his hand into Sam's and squeezed lightly. A peaceful night is all he wanted and he got it for sure. He watched his brother doze with loving eyes. A loud commercial break jarred him and Dean tried to take his hand back, but Sam pulled him closer.

"Dean, I had a good time at the party."

"Good. That's what matters."

Sam closed the gap between them and kissed gentle, unsure if Dean would react. They fell into a rhythm of gentle kissing and nipping. Sam was lay flat on the couch, Dean straddling him. Dean unbuttoned the dress shirt and suckled the skin, leaving hickeys. He liked the way Sam leaned into each one, savoring the possessive marks.

Dean collapsed forward on Sam’s chest and paced his breathing to match Sam's, slower and slower until they both were asleep.

* * *

  
When Sam came to, Dean had his arms wrapped around him and a knee between his legs. It was cold everywhere else in the room; he could see snow drifts reaching the windows. Dean’s weight was getting heavier by the second.

"Dean."

"Sammy? You okay?"

"Yeah, I just gotta get up."

"Oh sorry." He rolled off the couch with a thump.

"So, presents?"

"Dad's not here," a pout screwed up Sam's face.

"Never stopped us before."

Dean trotted off to his room where he'd stashed the gifts. Sam hid his behind the granola bars where neither John or Dean would ever trespass.

* * *

  
"Alright, you open one first," Dean ordered. He'd never admit it, but he really wanted to see the reactions to his gifts. He didn't even care what he got.

Both boys had changed into pajama bottoms and t-shirts. In front of Sam were two perfectly wrapped gifts topped with a bow each. Dean's gifts were both in paper bags because Sam couldn't wrap them undetected.

Sam picked out the larger one first. He carefully pulled the tape off the edges and slid the object out. He did everything so careful like that as if it had feelings. He was probably going to keep the wrapping paper for a project or use it to wrap gifts next year.

Sam turned a black leather bound book over in his hands. He read the cover meaningfully.

"The Complete Collection of Edgar Allan Poe. Wow. Thanks Dean. Finally something to do on road trips. Your turn."

He turned a paper bag upside down and shook. Little clanks and clatters filled the air.

"Oh Jesus, Sam."

The floor was covered with various little trinkets. Four key chains boasting the names of bands Dean liked, a couple cutesy bumper stickers, and tons of beef jerky.

"When?"

"I've scoped every gas station we've stopped at. That's the creme de la creme."

Most people would think they were terrible gifts, but it was a testament to the things Sam picked up on about his brother.

Sam began with the tape again this time, but Dean interrupted.

"Dude, who cares. It's wrapping paper. Rip it!"

He tore into the paper like a normal kid now. The look on Sam's face made Dean laugh until it hurt.

"Kama sutra oh my god. What the hell?" His face was cranberry red. He was obviously thanking everything holy their Dad was missing this part.

Before he could be bitched out, Dean dumped the contents of the second bag out. Shiny silver gleamed on the carpet. A ring and a weird black thing. The ring was untouched except the thin line engraved all the way around the center. He held the black thing up to examine closer. Still no idea.

"What's this?"

"Push the button."

Knives came out both sides.

"Dude. Is this a batarang?"

"Yeah I made it and that ring in art metals. I thought you could use it when we go on hunts and stuff."

"This is the best gift ever. So does this make you Robin or Nightwing?”  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Half-assed editing done by myself. Any errors you see, please let me know. Written for Deanplease/Justine Delarge's Winter Wincest contest.


End file.
